At the same time on earth,
NASA Headquarters, Washington D.C.
Inside the mission control center at NASA Headquarters, silence gripped the room tighter than gravity itself.
President Matthew Ward stood near the central console, arms folded across his chest, eyes glued to the towering central screen. It had been fifteen days since Sentinel-9, America's most advanced unmanned exploration drone, was launched toward Mars — its mission: investigate the massive wall-like structure discovered by Rover Delta.
Unlike previous Mars missions in human history, this one wasn't constrained by the limitations of primitive communication delays. Thanks to decades of breakthroughs in deep-space signal enhancement — built off repurposed Stark industries tech and reclassified defense innovations — Earth could now receive live visual and sensory feedback from the Martian surface.
And that was exactly what they were waiting for.
Behind the President stood the same high-level officials from that classified briefing: Director Marcus Leland, still in charge of the operation, his gaze sharp and unreadable; Secretary of State Ross, a man who radiated military rigidity; Secretary of Defense Elaine Park, calmly observing; CIA Director Hensley, arms crossed; and National Security Advisor Linda Carroway, who said little but missed nothing.
No reporters. No civilian scientists. This was a black-level mission — sealed tight under the highest clearance. The wall on Mars wasn't public knowledge. Not yet.
Dr. Ana Vasquez, NASA's mission lead, stood at the head console with her team. She turned toward the group, voice crisp.
"We're entering Mars orbit. Descent sequence begins in ten seconds."
The countdown lit up on the screen. The drone's telemetry data streamed in like falling rain.
"Three… two… initiating gravity descent."
On the central display, the live camera feed from Sentinel-9 flickered. The image shook violently as the drone hit the Martian atmosphere. Dust clouds spiraled past the lens. The body of the drone rattled, descending faster than expected.
"Velocity spike!" Ana shouted. "Impact dampeners at full. Stabilizing…"
The screen jolted once more — then steadied.
"Drone stabilized. Camera feed intact. Descent proceeding."
The room let out a collective breath.
Through the lens of Sentinel-9, the world of Mars unfolded. Reddish plains, craters like giant scars, and wisps of high-altitude dust. The camera automatically zoomed and focused as the drone approached the target coordinates.
President Ward narrowed his eyes. "Are we close?"
Ana nodded. "Approaching final descent. Target zone — five kilometers out. Should have visual on the structure within thirty seconds."
Seconds passed like minutes.
Then — a shape emerged.
A hush fell over the control room.
From the upper left of the screen, the wall came into view. Just like the photo, but now seen in full motion — clearer, larger, more imposing. It stretched across the Martian surface for what looked like kilometers, casting a long shadow beneath the pale, dusty sky. Its surface gleamed oddly smooth, untouched by time, wind, or erosion.
"Zoom. Enhance contrast," Leland said softly.
The video feed obeyed. Now the detail was undeniable — no natural formation could create such symmetry, such perfect vertical smoothness. The entire structure pulsed with the weight of intention.
"Still no visible entrances…" Park murmured.
"Who could build something like this out there?" Hensley asked. "No nation on Earth has the tech to deploy something of that size."
Ross leaned forward. "Are we certain it wasn't there before? Some fluke of satellite imagery missing it?"
"No, sir," Ana replied. "This region was mapped several times. Nothing appeared until now. It wasn't overlooked. It wasn't there."
The drone descended closer, guided by its pre-planned trajectory.
But then, something shifted on the screen.
Leland was the first to notice. "Wait—what is that?"
They all leaned in.
Around the base of the wall, the landscape became… obscured.
A dense red haze — like fog made from Martian dust — covered the area. It didn't blow in waves like normal dust storms. It didn't shift. It clung to the surface unnaturally, as if fixed in place by something unseen.
Ana looked confused. "There's no meteorological data supporting this. Surface wind velocity is nearly zero, but the dust is… suspended. Evenly. Static."
Carroway broke her silence. "So, what are we looking at?"
"I… don't know," Ana admitted. "But it's not behaving like atmospheric phenomena. It's localized. Almost circular."
"Can you see through it?" the President asked.
"We're trying," Ana said, typing fast. "Applying thermal. Switching to radar overlay now—"
The screens fuzzed with static.
The alternate scans came back scrambled, jittering with noise, showing nothing.
"Thermal feed's corrupted," Ana said. "Radar signal's bouncing. It's like… something's interfering."
Ross frowned. "Electromagnetic field?"
Ana shook her head slowly. "No known type. It's not interfering with drone function — only scanning. Visual only. Whatever's inside that fog, it doesn't want to be seen."
The President spoke quietly, voice low and cold. "That wall might just be part of something bigger."
Leland didn't reply, but his expression said enough.
Inside his mind, thoughts surged.
' It's not just a wall. The dust… the interference… the precision — this is more than a structure. It's hiding something. Maybe more structures. A facility. A base?'
But what chilled him most was the fog — it wasn't wild or chaotic. It was still. Guarded.
Artificial.
He couldn't say that out loud yet — not without proof — but in his gut, he felt it: This isn't a natural phenomenon. Someone — or something — made that fog.
President Ward turned to Leland. "I want a permanent task force. Now. Put a ring around this. Military encryption. No one else sees this feed."
"Yes, sir," Leland answered instantly.
Ward turned back to the screen. The camera was slowly circling above the red fog, but the secrets beneath it remained shrouded.
"I want deep analysis," the President said. "Scans every hour. Sensors, spectrum imaging, gravitational mapping — whatever you've got."
He paused.
"And if that fog ever clears, I want eyes on the ground. Fast."
He looked at each of them in turn. "Until then… this stays buried."
As the others nodded, the Martian fog on the screen pulsed slightly in the dying red light — almost like it was breathing.
But it said nothing.
And neither did the men and women watching it.